


Pieces of Me

by DarkFaerieNyroc13



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cynicism, I broke everything, I don't think I can fix it, Multi, Out of Character, Short Chapters, Stream of Consciousness, Tenten has a grandma now, basically pointless, but definitely not the best, general bullshit, idk - Freeform, it's been a really long time since i was in high school you guys, my bff jill, not the worst fic you've ever read, what even are tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFaerieNyroc13/pseuds/DarkFaerieNyroc13
Summary: After suddenly losing two of her closest friends in a car accident, high school senior Tenten restarts her life in a new city. But when ghosts from her past rear their ugly heads, who can she trust to turn to before she loses herself as well? High school AU.





	1. everything is falling apart around me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Naruto. Everyone is super out of character. We're gonna' roll with it anyway. Brace for cursing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is the twenty-sixth day that has passed since my life exploded into tiny pieces and burned itself at the stake, right before my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Naruto. Everyone is super out of character. We're gonna' roll with it.

Today is the twenty-sixth day that has passed since my life exploded into tiny pieces and burned itself at the stake, right before my eyes.

On day twenty-two, my mother and I got into the car and set out from our hot, dry little town in the Southwest. After 1,400 miles, 16 pit-stops, and 22 hours worth of driving, we ended up in the heart of a stupidly tiny college town forever-and-a-half hours away from any decent semblance of civilization. This is the city where my widowed grandmother lives. It's called Bumfuck Nowhere, I think. Mid-Missouri or something. Kansas. Konoha. Close enough. It doesn’t matter.

On day seventeen, my mother called her mother. Explained the situation. Made arrangements. Told me I was going to go halfway to the other side of the country to live with her. Told me to pack, because I was going to be living there for a while, because I needed to get out of this bustling urban city, because I needed some fresh small-town air to get my mind off things. She didn't ask if I was okay with that.

On day sixteen, my parents had a chat behind their closed bedroom door. I was unruly/depressed/moody/needed to get away from this town. I was a hassle to get out of bed/unwilling to try to go back to my normal life/a complete and total zombie/suddenly lazy/moody/depressed/unruly. I guess they hadn't realized that, after eighteen years, our walls didn't suddenly/hopefully/magically turn soundproof. Their words hurt me in my gut, but my gut was too numb to feel it.

On day ten, I was admittedly a mess. I was spending my days in my room, staring at my ceiling, ticking the hours by with nothing but static in my head and emptiness in my belly.

On day four, my parents and I went to the funerals. Same accident, same day, different cemeteries. I wore a black dress on my body and a black sneaker to match the black boot-splint on my foot. I watched them lower two caskets into the cold, dead earth. It was a closed-casket service. They had white roses and pale yellow tulips.

On day two, they released me from the hospital. My brain/ankle/arm/vital signs were functioning properly/hairline-fractured but splinted and set to go/stitched to perfection and bandaged/normal. They sent me home with prescription-strength painkillers for my cracked ribs, but nothing for my broken heart.

On day one, I slept for twenty hours. Dreamless.

On the day when the counting of days began, I got into the car with my best friend and my second-best friend after soccer practice, just like always. Mina drove. I rode shotgun. Kyoko was in the back on the driver's side. We were hot chicks with a plan for world domination and, after slushies from the corner gas station, $6.47 to make it happen. We were alive, laughing, listening to a CD of a local garage band with a bassist that we all had the hots for. Mina slowed down and stopped when a light turned red. Mina was a good driver. A great driver.

There was no way that any of us could have predicted that the car behind us wouldn't notice the red. We didn't expect to be slammed in the rear bumper and rocketed into oncoming traffic. We didn't expect to not walk away.

* * *

 

Band tee-shirt. Denim shorts. White shorts. Another band tee-shirt.

My hands tell me what things are and where they go as I pull clothing items from the box by my side. It's hard work, fighting back memories of the clothes I wore for three and one-quarter years during high school. My fingertips touch lace, and I look down. It's the skirt that I wore to my first-ever high school party, with purple fabric and a black lace overlay. It's a cute skirt, but painful for me to think about. That was the day that I met-

I drop the skirt like it's a hot coal and stand up too fast. The room immediately starts to pitch around, but I don't care enough to notice. I float out of the room with stars in my eyes and a dull ache in my belly.

Down the stairs I go, my bare feet padding along on the carpet. I already know that Gran is out by the lack of humming. That's okay, though; I don't mind being alone. I go into what I think is the kitchen and wind up in the den. I turn around and wander until I my feet hit the linoleum floor. My navigational system is still having difficulties adjusting to the change in setting.

I meander to the pantry and pull out whatever my hand touches first, and then head back upstairs to what has become my bedroom. It's sparse, of course; the would-be guest bedroom still has the simple wooden bed frame, white eyelet curtains, wooden night-stand that doesn't match the bed, and robin-egg blue paint job that has been there since before I can remember. Other than that, a new wooden desk, and the door to a closet that has the exact dimensions of a standard-sized coffin, there's absolutely nothing in here. Oh, except for the moving boxes.

I crunch into dry, uncooked pasta. My lip curls a little, and I close the box to set it on top of the desk. So much for my snack.

I lay down on the bare mattress, my head full of static and unpleasant thoughts. I can't face the boxes any more today. I close my eyes against the dull light bulb above my head and try to tune out the world.

* * *

The world is dark outside my window when I wake. Looking over at the alarm clock on the night stand, the red numbers indicate to me that it's some early hour of the morning. I squint and lean closer to make out 4:16 a.m. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. When my feet touch carpet instead of hardwood, I feel a brief sense of disorientation before I remember where I am. I frown and get out of bed. Frowning is something I do a lot these days.

I stalk downstairs to make coffee before I have a chance to remember that Gran doesn't believe in the power of caffeine. God Save the Queen. I curse in my head and stalk back up the steps, deciding to go back to bed.

I lay on the old spring mattress for an hour before giving up on sleep and getting up. I rummage through a box of clothing until I find something that doesn't have any painful emotions attached to it. A pair of ripped jeans from the summer before freshman year slides itself onto my legs, and a plain red long-sleeved tee finds itself on my torso. I'm a little surprised that the clothes still fit, but whatever. I head back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Gran is up now, humming to herself as she scramblescramblescrambles eggs in a skillet.

Gran isn’t the typical image of a grandmother. She's a little plump, but not fat; she just has a roll of love around her tummy. She draws on her eyebrows every morning and wears perfume and does yoga with her old lady friends. Her skin doesn't bag too terribly at her neck and around her arms, and she's got great legs. At least she has a vague grasp on a sense of style; today she's wearing a light blue button-down blouse and khaki slacks. Her hair is dyed strawberry blonde, and she keeps it short and choppy and spiked up in the back like a lot of middle-aged women. Her eyes are honey-brown, like mine. She's a pretty woman, overall; at least I know I get it honestly.

Gran looks over her shoulder and smiles when she sees me looking.

"Good morning, Sweetie," she says, greeting me. Her voice is medium-high alto and about as sweet as American Honey. Not that I've ever tried it, of course.

There's a pause, and then she prods me with "Did you sleep well?"

All I can do is nod because I'm not awake yet and I don't actually feel like talking. But, then again, I don't do much talking at all these days.

Gran sighs softly and hands me a plate of eggs and buttered toast with jam. I used to love it as a kid, but now I don't care as much. I eat it mechanically anyways, chewing the same number of times every bite. Chew chew chew chew chew chew chew chew chew chew chew. Eleven times. A nice number. I always liked the number 11. Once finished, I wash my plate in the sink and pick up the brand-new backpack that's by the door, filled with this school year's necessities. Everything in there is new except for my Spanish and math notebooks, since I'm going to need those notes. Everything's new. New is good. New doesn't have painful memories attached to it.

"Do you want me to take you to school?" Gran asks.

I shake my head no. "I'll walk." My voice sounds a little different than it usually does, since I haven't said a word after the routine hellos when I got here two days ago. When I look over at her, she looks startled.

"Are you sure?" she checks, almost pleading. It's kind of a desperate recovery, but I can't hold that against her. "It's three miles. It won't take any time to get you there."

I shake my head once more and sling the backpack onto one of my shoulders, then the other.

"It's just three miles. I'll be okay."

"Do you want a bus schedule?"

"Gran, I'll be okay." I look up at her and give a little shrug as I take my cell phone from the counter and slide it into my pocket. I turn to go.

"Tenny," she calls. It's something I haven't heard since I was about twelve. "Be careful, Honey."

I look back at her and nod my understanding, then head to school.


	2. you're putting duct tape over a crack in the foundation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always hated the first day of school. I hate it more now that I don't know anybody in this town. 
> 
> That, and my teacher seems like a creep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Naruto.

It turns out that school is not three miles from the house. With having to work around buildings, yards, houses, streets without sidewalks, and other things, it's almost five. I could have taken a bus or let Gran drive me, but I don't like riding in cars and I don't trust public transportation. Trains, planes, cars, busses, subways, and trolleys are all examples of things that could crash and burn and kill you.

No. I'll walk for now, thank you.

The school is big and looks modern in the front, probably from a recent facelift. I pull on one of the doors, but it's locked. All of them are. What's the point of having four sets of double doors if all of them are locked?

"It is the one on the far right."

The voice startles me and I turn to see a boy about my age, maybe younger. He's got a hideous bowl cut and thick eyebrows, both as black as an oil slick. His eyes are large, round, and framed by thick, long eyelashes. He's wearing a forest green tee, sweatpants, and tennis shoes. Kind of like if a nerd and a jock had a baby.

He saunters to the door he indicated earlier and pulls it open, his smile big and broad and blindingly white as he waits for me. I whispersay my thanks to him and duck under his arm to enter into the building. There are a handful of students in the commons, but not too many since I'm about an hour and a half early for school. A few glance at me and the boy behind me, but they go back to their business because I'm uninteresting/not their friend/insignificant/not as important as what they're doing/not as important as who they're talking to. I look around me for a moment before it hits me that I have absolutely no idea where I am or where I'm going to. God Save the Queen.

I slide my backpack off of one shoulder to pull out my class schedule. It's mostly the same as it was at my old school, with the exception being that instead of Physical Education I'm now taking Drawing. I have no idea at all how to draw, but it's the only class that fits into my schedule. Besides, drawing is new for me. New is good.

"Hey, are you new or something?"

I look up to find that the nice boy is still standing next to me, which is surprising. I thought he would have wandered away by now. I hesitate a moment before I nod my head yes, and he smiles his great big grin again. It's starting to weird me out.

"I thought so. I know everybody at this school, but I did not know you, and so I figured that you must not come around here often."

Okay, so he also doesn't use contractions when he talks. He speaks like a robot instead. I can adjust to this. Maybe.

He's still watching me. He's waiting for me to reply. I just shrug my shoulders at him and pull my backpack back onto them. His grin vanishes in an instant, and his mouth sets into a flat line. Great, now he hates me.

And then suddenly it's back, as blinding as usual.

"I am Lee, but everyone here calls me The Rock. I will help you find where you are going!" he declares. He props one hand on his hip and the other he holds in front of him in a thumbs-up sign. His teeth sparkle. I guess it's supposed to be impressive or something, but anyone who's trying to be The Rock and who isn't actually a movie star or a wrestler is someone who I don't usually associate myself with. Not that I've ever actually met anyone like that.

I stare at him, utterly speechless.

He holds the pose for another thirty seconds—seriously, thirty seconds—before he drops his arms back to his sides.

"May I please see your schedule?" he asks. His politeness is getting to me. I can feel it rotting my teeth out. But he's being nice and very helpful, so I hand the piece of paper to him. He examines it for a moment or two and then nods.

"Okay, follow me!" His voice is all but a shout. And it's not like I have much of a choice whether I want to follow him or not, because he grabs my arm and pulls me along with him. My stitches/ankle bones/cracked ribs burn and try to rip my skin/protest from their in-shoe brace/dissolve my side from the inside out as he tugs me along. I yank my arm from his grasp.

"I got it! Geez Louise!" I shout. I stalk past him, rubbing my arm as my skin tries to chew and swallow itself. He stalls for a second before jogging to catch up to me.

"I did not think that you could speak," he says to me, a little too happy with himself.

I shoot him a glare and stop walking abruptly when the hallway splits. I can go straight, left, or right. I frown and look for an indication to where my locker should be. I have no idea how they number things here.

"It is this way," 'The Rock' Lee tells me. He just about skips down the hallway to the left. I grimace because I like the right better, but I follow him anyways. He leads me to a red locker with chipped paint and a door that doesn't close when I test it. I sigh, empty my backpack into it, and slam it shut with my hip. Lee looks impressed that I was able to close it. I try not to notice.

"Would you like to have coffee with me?" he offers, "School is still one hour and seventeen minutes away from now."

I ponder this and, since I have nothing better to do, nod my head. Besides, I still haven't had my coffee fix. I grab my purse and follow him out of the building and across the parking lot and jaywalk across the street and enter into a small coffee shop called Nin's Café and wait for a minute in line and order the first thing I see and wait for my coffee and pick it up and take it to a little booth in the corner and sit down. The cushion squeaks a little; it's fabric coated with spill-resistant stuff, but at least it isn't plastic.

Lee slides into the booth across from me, his big black eyes watching me expectantly. I can't think of anything to say, so I just take the lid off of my disposable coffee cup to let it cool. I'm surprised to find whipped cream on top.

"So, what is your name?"

The question catches me off-guard as I'm taking a sip and I become distracted with how to answer. Hot coffee sears the inside of my mouth and half of my esophagus. I cough and slam the cup down, sloshing more of the burning liquid over my hand. I'm on my feet in a second, yelping like a hurt puppy and clamping a hand over my mouth.

Lee is on his feet as well, and then he's gone. He returns momentarily with a free cup of cool water and some napkins. I gulp the liquid gratefully when he hands it to me and then watch with a guilty feeling in my stomach as he mops the coffee and whipped cream from the table. As he tosses the napkins into the trash can and walks back, I'm surprised to see that he's laughing quietly to himself.

"Are you all right?"

I nod this time because I'm prepared for his question, then give him an apologetic grimace. He lifts and drops his shoulders in a shrug and takes his seat. I'm a little more hesitant as I eye my coffee cup suspiciously. I'm afraid it will jump up and burn me again just out of spite.

…okay, so maybe not. But whatever.

Lee gives me a small sigh and takes a drink of his… smoothie. I didn't know they had smoothies here. I'm so jello.

"Are you never going to speak to me?" Lee asks. He sounds dejected now, as if I just crushed all of his hopes and dreams. I didn't even know that Lee could sound sad. Wow. This is a major revelation here.

"Tenten."

He blinks and looks up at me from his smoothie, which I presume to be some concoction of strawberries and bananas. "I am sorry?"

"Tenten," I repeat. "My name's Tenten."

Lee stares at me for long enough to make me feel exceedingly uncomfortable. Just when I'm about to start fidgeting to keep myself from rudely walking away, his superstar grin comes back.

"Tenten," he repeats after me. "That is a very nice name. I am honored that you have shared it with me."

I bob my head up and down in acknowledgement and take a sip of my coffee, now that it's not so hot. Once I get past the whipped cream, I'm greeted with the flavor of caramel and pecans. I love caramel in my coffee, but I hate pecans.

Let me repeat that.

I hate pecans.

Like, with the passion of a thousand burning suns and a million screaming toddlers kind of hatred.

…anyways.

So, as I'm thinking of how much I hate pecans and how utterly disgusting they are, my upper lip is slowly curling upward and wrinkling my face into the same sort of look that I see picky children get when they're presented with Brussels sprouts. And as I'm thinking and my lip is curling, Lee is still watching me. I can see his shoulders shaking up and down in my peripheral vision before I can hear him chuckling quietly to himself.

"Do you not like caramel?" he inquires. He's reading the label on my coffee cup. Apparently it says Dulce de Leche, but since that's pretty much just sweetened condensed milk, I think this shop has it wrong.

I shake my head. "Pecans," I correct.

Lee smiles and nods his head at me. "If you would like a different drink, I would be more than happy to replace that one."

I shake my head no. "That's okay," I say, "I'll drink what I ordered." That was something that my good friend taught me. My friend Mina

No. Not going there.

So I fetch a spoon, scoop up some whipped cream with a caramel drizzle and chopped toasted pecans, and pop it into my mouth.

Lee watches.

Lee waits.

…okay, so I guess maybe this stuff isn't so bad.

You know, once you get passed the pecans.

"Do you like it?" he asks me. I shrug my shoulders once. It's tolerable.

Hot caramel-flavored coffee (with a bit of a nutty flavor, but it tastes more like hazelnut now) blazes a trail down my throat and splashes into my belly. I can feel it warming me from the inside-out, which is good because the air conditioning is blasting in this place. It reminds me that I forgot to go to our Thursday night Coffee Cartel meeting. It's this thing where my friends and I pick a random coffee shop and we each get a different drink and pass it around and taste it. Me and

No/bad Tenten/no/don't think about that/no/bad girl Tenten/no/no/scold/scold.

There's no more Coffee Cartel. There's just me.

* * *

 

We still have fifteen minutes to kill when we get back to school, but at least I'm mostly awake due to the caffeine I've consumed. There are a considerable amount of students in the school now. Not enough to be scary, but enough to make me a bit uncomfortable. I guess most people show up five minutes before the bell. Duly noted. I follow Lee into the senior hallway and stop when he stops. He taps on the shoulder of a girl a little shorter than me.

When she turns around, I see that her green eyes are set off by short strawberry-blonde hair. I think that maybe it could be dyed, but I'm not entirely sure. I know some people with some weird-colored hair that's natural. Anyways, her hairline is a little high so her forehead looks a bit bigger than normal. But her face is open and her smile is kind when she looks at me.

Then the rest of the group turns to look at me. My stomach/heart/spine fills with butterflies/begins to beat rabbitfast/turns to jelly.

"Everyone, this is Tenten," Lee announces. "She has just arrived here to finish the school year with us." The way that he clearly pronounces every single vowel and consonant is seriously starting to grate on me, but the others don't seem to mind so I guess it's something I can get used to.

"Hey there, Tenten." It's the strawberry-blonde with the green eyes. She gives a small wave in my direction, even though she's right in front of me and it would be much easier just to shake my hand. Maybe she's not a hand-shaker.

"Hey!"

"Hello!"

"Hi!"

The greetings come from the mass of people in front of me. It will be impossible for me to remember everyone's names. Suddenly they're all talking, introducing themselves. It's starting to make me dizzy, and I can feel my eyes are incredibly wide.

"Give the girl some room to breathe, wouldja'?"

The loud interjection, which I am eternally grateful for, comes from a boy who's wearing his dark hair in a high ponytail. He's got on a button-down shirt that's open with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he's wearing a black muscleman/tank top/wife beater underneath that, with the kind of jeans that skater kids wear and flip-flops that look both masculine and comfy at the same time. I have to admit, he's kind of attractive.

He steps forward, slips his arm around my shoulders, and pulls me away from the group. I can't help the blush that creeps onto my face. I've never walked with a boy with his arm around my shoulders, except my father. Besides, he's wearing some sort of musky cologne or Axe or something that makes him smell godawfully good.

I don't think that's a word, but you get my point.

"Sorry. They can be a little overbearing," he tells me.

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Then he looks down at me, and I realize that he's a half-head taller than I am. His eyes are dark. "So, it's Tenten, right?" When I nod, he continues with, "It's nice to meet you then, Tenten. I'm Shikamaru."

I bob my head a little at him, barely comprehending what he's saying.

No, let me amend that. Not comprehending what he's saying at all.

"Here we are," he murmurs in a sing-song voice. We've arrived at my locker. How on earth he knows where it is? Yeah, that's beyond me. Maybe he's, like, one of those really observant types.

"Thanks," I whispersay to him. He smirks and leans against the other lockers, his hands in his pockets.

"You're kinda shy, huh?"

I just nod to make things simple. I'm not actually all that shy. Well, at least that's how it used to be. I used to be really outgoing. I had, like, a million friends. Popular. Went to all of the sporting events. Vice-President of the Student Council. Involved in more extra-curricular activities than a normal human could juggle. Had a job that dealt with people and screaming kids on a daily basis. Lots of human interaction, you know?

Yeah, I guess conquering crowds is going to be harder now. Besides, I'm just now starting to notice how incredibly big this school is compared to the tiny private school I used to go to.

"Can I see your schedule?"

Shikamaru's voice pulls me out of the little bubble I'm in. I blink dumbly for a moment before realizing that the paper is in my purse. I tear through the sack and then present it proudly to the young man in front of me. He accepts it, frowns, and reads it carefully. Analytical. I've seen that look before.

…not going there.

Bad Tenten.

"We've got five out of eight classes together, even though study hall doesn't really count." He pauses to look up at me, making sure I'm listening (which I am) before he continues. "We have block schedules here, so today you'll have all of your A-day classes, which are the first four on your schedule. Each block is an hour and a half long. It can get grueling, so bring something else to do like a sketchbook or a word search. Lunch is during third period. We have the same class then, so I'll walk you through it if you'd like.

"Tomorrow is a B-day, so you'll essentially do the same thing, but with your last set of classes. Seventh period—er, it'll be second tomorrow, but we all call it seventh—is your study hall. We have a twenty-minute-long reading time so bring a book or magazine with paragraphs in it. No manga, no Cosmo. After that you can roam the school and ask teachers questions, which I suggest you do."

It takes me a minute to absorb all of this information, but after that I nod. I think I've got it. Maybe.

…maybe not.

Anywho.

Shikamaru hands back the paper. "You've got English first period, you lucky duck. You'll love the teacher. He sits there the entire time reading perverted novels and tells you to pick apart literature." He laces his fingers behind his head and yawns, "His tests are a drag, though. Super picky about every little detail."

His fingers tap against the locker behind his head, and then his lips tug into a frown.

"What a drag," he sighs, and then moves out of the way.

A young man who's probably a senior like me steps up to open the locker that Shikamaru had been leaning on. He's got dark hair that's somewhere between black and what I can only describe as mocha. It's long and tied into a ponytail at the bottom. He looks kind of like a girl. Or a trust fund kid.

Seriously. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a button-down. Either he’s giving a presentation in class or he’s got a stick shoved so far up his--

"Hey, Hyūga." Shikamaru lights up like he’s got a bright idea.

"Hn." I think the boy at the locker just grunted at him.

"My friend here has English with you, and as you know, I'm going to be in the Arts building."

"Hn."

Again..?

"So I thought it'd be nice of you to walk her to her class. She's new."

"Hn."

Seriously? What the hell kind of a response is 'hn'? How does he even make that sound?

And then he looks at me, and I notice that his eyes are grey. Well, not grey. They're more like… like this yellowish-lavender-white color, kind of like milk. I've never seen that before. Maybe he's blind.

…Okay, he's obviously not blind. But maybe it's like some sort of pigmentation fail or something.

Eye dee kay. My bee eff eff Jill.

Ha.

"Fabulous." Shikamaru's voice interrupts my silent celebration of epic wit.

"Hn."

…seriously?

Shikamaru sighs again and mutters something that I think resembles the word 'troublesome' beneath his breath. He turns his dark eyes to me.

"Tenten, this is Neji Hyūga, the most antisocial human being you will ever meet. Neji, this is Tenten. Play nicely."

The Neji boy hn-s again at him, then grabs his books, shuts his locker and takes off down the hallway.

"What a drag," Shikamaru mutters to me.

I sigh, grab a 5-subject notebook and a folder, send a thankful smile to Shikamaru, and hurry off after the Neji boy. It's not hard to pick him out of the other students, considering he's the only one who's tall enough to be a boy and with long enough hair to be a girl.

I catch up to him just before we enter what I can only assume is the English department's hallway. The walls are lined with statues of old dead men and posters with excerpts from stories and poems that are older than my great-great-great Aunt Mina. And trust me, she's old.

We don't talk, but he holds a door open for me so at least he's not a total jerk. Maybe.

And then I see the teacher.

God Save the Queen.

He's old and gross and wrinkly and looks like the kind of jerk who would prey on small children.

…ew. That's wrong on  _ so  _ many levels.

I take an empty seat in one of the middle rows and wait for the bell to ring. I doodle in the margins of my notebook because I don't have anything else to keep me occupied.

 


	3. everything hurts and I'm dying. probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barring crazy car accidents and the occasional teenage pregnancy, nothing much happens here. This isn’t some stupid fanfiction where everybody’s in a rock band and fixes cars and is in secret anti-goverment crime-fighting gangs. It’s just classes, and silent fashion warfare, and physically running into people in the hallway.
> 
> And being so lost in my thoughts that the office has to page me twice before I register it and leave my last class early to go down there. 
> 
> Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Naruto. Brace for cursing.

 

It takes a minute after the bell rings for the crotchety old teacher to give us a warm-up writing prompt. He gives us twenty minutes to work on it, which seems like a waste of time to me, but maybe it's just because I don't have anything to say. I've only gotten about three lines down when he calls time and tells us to pass the papers to the front. I scribble down my name and pass it forward. I make sure to hide my pathetic little paper at the bottom of the stack, since everyone else has most of the page filled and some have front-and-back entries.

Then the teacher tells us to get to reading. I don't have the book, but I don't want to say anything and attract attention to myself. I rub the graphite from the outside edge of my hand to my jeans and lean the side of my jaw into my palm. It takes a minute for me to go back to doodling in the margins of my notebook. Roses and tulips crawl up the red line on the side of the paper.

I set the pencil down when my heart starts to ache.

I stare down at the graphite flowers for forever-and-a-half. I don't even know what time it is when the door opens. I'm the only one who looks up, which tells me that it's probably a pretty common occurrence.

“Sorry, guys. I had to help a lady with her groceries,” drawls the man that walks in. He's dressed business-casual, in black slacks and a navy shirt. It's somewhere between a tee-shirt and a sweater, but I guess if it works, then it works. He's probably somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. It's a little hard to tell because his face is young, and his hair is old... kind of. It's grey like an old guy, but it's also spiked up like a young guy. I don't know what to do with that kind of visual information.

The students around me grumble vaguely, but they don't look up from their reading.

The crotchety old guy gives up his seat and leaves the room, taking his briefcase with him. The new guy sits down in the swivel chair behind the desk. He flips through a few pads of paper, memo pads, yellow legal pads... his desk is basically a paper warzone.

“Tenten,” he calls. “Come up here, please.”

The muscles in my back go rigid at the same time that my spine turns into jelly, which is a very strange and conflicting combination. After a few seconds people start looking up from their books and directing their attention over to me.

When I'm still frozen after a solid thirty seconds, the person sitting behind me prods my lower back through the opening in the back of my chair. I jolt to my feet. I look behind me; the Neji kid is the one who nudged me, but he doesn't look up from his book. I guess he has better things to do. I smooth my hand over the back of my shirt and hope that he didn't leave a shoe print as I shimmy my way down the row of desks and make my way to the front-right of the classroom, where the teacher's desk is. When I get there, he finally looks up at me.

He's kind of scary at first, but after a second his eyes crinkle up in a warm way, and the bugs in my stomach stop squirming as much. I notice he has a faint scar across his left eye, but I'm not about to ask where he got it.

“So, you're Tenten.” He says it kind of like a question, but not exactly, since we both know he already knows the answer. “I'm Kakashi Hatake. I'm the head of the English department, so if you have any problems or questions, feel free to stop by my office hours.” He rolls his desk chair back away from his desk and glides himself over to a short bookshelf against one wall. He pulls a book from the shelf, and then another, and the few books in his hand turn into a short stack. He tops the books with a printed copy of the class syllabus and rolls himself forward again and holds the stack out to me. There are five books in my hand, and all of them are classics.

“These are all the books we've covered so far,” he says, which both impresses me and makes me nervous at the same time. They've gone through five books already? And it's been.. what, six weeks? Seven?

Hell, I don't know what month it is.

“Tenten?”

I blink and look up at him. Heat rushes to my cheek when I realize he's been talking. I totally zoned out.

He raises a brow at me and leans back in his chair. “Anyway. As I was saying, we're reading through Grendel right now. We're currently in chapter four. There will be a quiz on Wednesday, so do your best to get caught up.”

I open my mouth for a moment, only to close it again. Hell, I don't even know what day of the week it is. What's wrong with me? I mean, aside from the obvious?

His other brow raises up to meet the first and he supplies, “Next class.”

I clear my throat and reach up to tuck the hair behind my ear. I nod a little.

He watches me carefully for a second before he says, “If Wednesday comes and you feel you need more time to prepare, you can take the quiz during your study hall, as long as you come talk to me before class first. You can take the rest of the chapter quizzes during your study hall, as well. Before and after school works, too. You need to be caught up and done with chapter four by Friday.” He pauses. “Did you get all that?”

My lips part and a soft “Um..” comes out of my mouth without my permission.

He hands me a stack of post-it notes and a pen. I scribble down the information before I forget it.

“The rest of the books are what we've already covered in class. We'll work out a schedule for you to get caught up on them so you don't miss any points for the semester, once you're caught up on Grendel.” He leans back in his chair again and folds his hands over his belly. “Any questions?”

I finish writing and shake my head. I hand back his pen and the rest of his post-its, sticking the one on top of my stack of books. When he nods and picks up his own book (Makeout Tactics? What the hell is that?) I pick up the stack of books and head back to my seat. I can feel eyes on me as I move, and as soon as I'm back at my desk I hunker down as low as I can get. I shove four of the books into my backpack and crack open Grendel and read and take notes in my notebook and sometimes doodle roses and tulips and read some more until the bell rings and I get up and put my book away and pick up my backpack and leave the room.

Neji Hyūga doesn't wait for me, but I follow after him anyway and hope that he goes back to his locker—which, thankfully, he does. I'm totally lost.

Passing period is five minutes, which is ridiculous because this school is freakin' huge and will probably take me ten minutes to navigate. What happens if I have to go to the bathroom? Anyway, Shikamaru finds me a few minutes into the passing period and leans against the locker next to mine.

“So, how was your first class with Hatake?” he asks. He has a low, drawling kind of voice that's both irritating and relaxing at the same time.

I shrug at him, because it was fine, I guess. Not really worthy of commentary. I’m still kind of processing it, anyway.

The rest of the day goes pretty much as expected. More of the same. Getting called up to the front of the room, getting materials, sitting back down, trying not to draw attention to myself. I’m getting pretty good at avoiding collisions in the hallway although I still happen to run into some poor guy outside the math room. He gives me a frown as I apologize and help him pick up the stack of papers I knocked all over the hallway.

Aside from that, it’s uneventful… but that’s high school. Barring crazy car accidents and the occasional teenage pregnancy, nothing much happens here. This isn’t some stupid fanfiction where everybody’s in a rock band and fixes cars and is in secret anti-goverment crime-fighting gangs. It’s just classes, and running into people in the hallway.

And being so lost in my thoughts that the office has to page me twice before I register it and leave my last class early to go down there.

The receptionist is a little pissed when I get there, because apparently I was supposed to go to the office in the morning and they’ve spent most of the day trying to call my parents and Gran to figure out where I am instead of just paging me. But the principal doesn’t seem too irritated… with me, at least. She waves me in when the secretary lets me through and I sit down in one of the chairs as she finishes calming someone down on the phone.

“She’s right here, she just walked in,” she says, and I realize it’s probably one of my parents. She talks for a few more minutes before hanging up and rubbing her forehead with an exasperated sigh.

“I get helicopter parents, but damn,” she mutters, and I wonder for a moment if she’s always like this or if it’s just a particularly stressful day.

“Sorry,” I whispersay to her, because I don’t have any words to excuse my behavior.

She waves me off dismissively. “It’s fine. Worse things have happened,” she assures me, and I’m sure they have. She sits down in the rolling chair across the desk and pulls what I can only assume is my file of paperwork across the desk to her.

“So, Tenten, tell me about yourself. You’re from…?”

“Phoenix,” I say automatically.

“Must have been quite the drive.”

“Twenty-two hours.”

She whistles. “Well, welcome to Konoha high. I’m Tsunade. Normally one or both of your parents would be here for this conversation, but I understand there are a lot of extenuating circumstances.”

I nod my head slowly, because I don’t want to talk about it. She seems to understand that and moves on.

“How was your first day?”

I shrug at her just like I had shrugged at Shikamaru. “It was fine,” I say.

“Just fine?”

“I mean, it’s high school.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckles.

The conversation continues in much the same way for about ten minutes. Her trying to talk to me, and me giving her one-sentence answers. She seems fine with it. I can tell she’s mostly trying to determine if I’m okay mentally or if I seem to be a shooter threat or something. She makes sure I know all the most important school rules (for example, the jeans I’m currently wearing are too ripped) and that I make sure I set up an appointment with the counselor. Encourages me to make friends and maybe join a sports team. I decline. It’s pointless when I don’t have my favorite teammates anymore.

Pain blossoms in my chest and I look down at my hands.

Twenty-six days is not long enough for even the most passing thoughts to stop hurting.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. I know you probably have a lot of homework to catch up on.”

Tsunade’s voice breaks me from my thoughts and I look up at her again. My head bobs up and down of its own accord and I stand up.

“It was good to meet you, Tenten.”

“You, too.”

I shake her hand and try to leave the office. The secretary makes me make an appointment with the school counselor and a guidance counselor. Finally I’m free.

Mostly. I still have a thousand hours of homework to do.

That, and as soon as I walk out of the office, some blonde girl just absolutely pounces on me.

“Hey! You must be Tenten! Lee and Shikamaru told me all about you!” she gushes. I take a step backwards and start walking to my locker, but she follows after me, blonde ponytail trailing behind her. “I’m Ino, I’m on the student council. I was supposed to give you a tour but I had a flat tire and didn’t make it in til almost second period. Sorry about that! But Shikamaru said he showed you around, right?”

I just nod a little at her and duck my head as I sift through the books in my locker. Maybe if I don’t talk to her she’ll leave me alone.

“Anyway, I know it can be super scary in a new school, but we’re super happy to have you here!”

“Thanks,” I say, and it comes out sharper than I want it to.

Ino shuts her mouth. “Sorry,” she says awkwardly after a minute. She rubs her arm.

“It’s okay.” The words leave on a sigh. “Sorry. I just… it’s been a long day.”

“I get it. I mean, I talk a _lot_ . Shika always gripes at me about it.” She pauses. “Shikamaru, I mean. We’ve known each other _forever_.”

“Right.” I straighten up with my backpack and groan just a little under the weight. I have some extra books I’ll have to just carry because they don’t fit.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Ino asks me, but I just shake my head.

“I walked.”

“Oh. Well… do you want a ride home?”

I shake my head again. “No. But thanks.”

“Come on, it’s not a problem. Really. Especially if you live close enough to walk… and all those books have to be super heavy, I--”

“It’s okay. Really. But thanks.”

“Okay,” she finally relents. She pushes off the lockers. “Well, it was nice to meet you.” She doesn’t seem pissed about my dismissal, but there’s a little touch of bitterness there. The kind that every teenage girl gets when you don’t want to immediately be their absolute bestest friend in the whole wide world.

“You, too,” I say automatically. Ino scampers off to go chat with some of her friends. One is the strawberry-blonde from earlier this morning. She waves at me as they pass, and I give her a little nod, but otherwise I just duck my head and focus on getting home.

 

Walking home takes a lot longer with a hundred thousand pounds of overpriced paper on your back, but eventually I get there. I pry off my shoes and dump the books and the backpack and the notes and the everything on the kitchen table. Gran isn’t home. She left me a note with a smiley face and a heart on it telling me she’s out running errands.

I leave the books on the table and trudge upstairs to my room. I know I should do my homework while the house is quiet, but I don’t feel like it. I collapse face-first onto the bed and just lie there for so long I feel like I’m in an alternate reality and the world doesn’t exist. Just me, face-down on the bed, the soft rattling of the ceiling fan as it spins around and around and around and around and

The door opens and shuts downstairs. It’s a few minutes before Gran knocks on my door and pokes her head in.

“Tenten? How was school?” she asks me.

I grunt at her because I’m barely conscious, just staring at the threads of the quilt a few inches from my nose.

“How about I come get you when dinner’s ready, and then you can do your homework after?”

I nod a little, but it’s noncommittal because I don’t know that I’ll actually be able to eat anything, or focus on any homework, or anything. I just keep staring at the pattern of the quilt as the door closes behind her.

Gran calls me for dinner half an hour later. I go downstairs and push my food around my plate until it’s cold. Eventually she wraps it up and puts it in the fridge, and I pull out my English homework and start reading Grendel. I read the same page or two for about an hour before I close the book and put my head down. The words are foreign on the page. I close my eyes but I can’t sleep. I can’t do anything.

My brain is a burned-out hamster on a wheel.

It’s past 10:15 when Gran touches my shoulder and tells me to go to bed. I take Grendel up with me, but I already know I’m not going to get any reading done. Just like I already know I’m not going to be able to sleep.

Gran is asleep by the time midnight hits, but I am not. There’s a burning energy inside of me. It’s that feeling you get when you’re walking down the street and it feels vaguely like you’re being followed, but whenever you look back, nobody is there. I never used to have problems with that anxious feeling bubbling up in my gut. I never used to have problems with a lot of things.

Normally I’d fix this feeling by going for a run, but considering I recently broke my ankle, that’s not exactly an option.

I hit the floor and do crunches until I lose count of how many I’ve done, and then I keep going. I’m hoping to tire myself out so that I can sleep but of course it doesn’t work. I can’t even do that right. Sleeping is the most basic human function and I can’t even do that right.

I feel so useless/pointless/terrible/horrible/stupid/failing at being a proper human/why can’t I just sleep/why can’t I think of anything else/please stop.

I breathe slowly as I lean back onto the carpet, sweat gathering at the small of my back and at my temples, and I try to clear my head with something, _anything_ to stop the racing thoughts. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works.

Eventually I throw on a jacket and head down the stairs, slipping on some shoes and walking out into the night. I don’t even bother to punch a location into my phone. I just start walking. My feet take me a mile from the house and to one of the bigger roads in town, and that takes me to a gas station and I buy an energy drink for the next morning because I know I’ll need it and I buy a pair of cheaply made/overpriced/ridiculously colored/overpriced/but there are no other options/overpriced headphones and ignore the looks from the kid behind the counter and walk back out into the night and open up the plastic and accidentally cut my thumb on the packaging and finally pry it open with my teeth and throw the plastic in a trash can at the entrance to a park and plug in the headphones and open up the music player on my phone and hit that right-pointing triangle and

Acoustic guitar fills my ears, and finally my thoughts come to a screeching halt. I don’t even realize the tension in my shoulders until it leaves them with a sigh. I sink onto a bench and press my face into my hands and just breathe for one minute and then two and then three and then four and then slowly it gets easier as a soft voice filters through the headphones and drowns out my racing thoughts. I sit up slowly and lean back onto the park bench. There are some moths fluttering around the street lamp, but otherwise it’s quiet and lonely.

It strikes me that I really like being alone. I used to hate it, but now I realize that it’s refreshing. Especially when I spent all day getting so many looks. So many weird looks. So many books and notes shoved at me, so many forced hellos, so many bits of awkward small-talk that nobody actually wants to deal with. I hate small talk. I’d rather talk about someone’s hopes and dreams, their past traumas, the things inside them that make them tick. I don’t want to talk about how classes are going or how my first day is going or why I had to transfer schools.

I especially don’t want to talk about why I had to transfer schools.

I like talking to people about _their_ past traumas, not about mine. But I don’t let my thoughts go there. I know I shouldn’t because I’m alone at night in a new town that I don’t know, but I crank the music anyway, until it’s so loud that I can’t think about stoplights and screeching brakes and the crunch of metal on metal. I push myself off the bench and start walking in a direction that I hope is toward ~~home~~ Gran’s house.

It’s somewhere around 2:30 when I finally get back, and Gran is up waiting for me in the living room. I take the headphones out and kick off my shoes and put the energy drink in the fridge and wonder how the hell she heard me leave until, about thirty seconds after the door closes behind me, the house starts screeching at me. I wince a little/more than a little/a lot/I hit the fucking floor and cover my ears until Gran gets up and shuts off the alarm.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Leave a note next time. I was worried sick, Tenten.”

“Sorry.”

“Where were you?”

“I walked over to the gas station. I lost my headphones.” To be honest they’re probably at school or at the bottom of my purse, but it seemed easier to buy new ones than to come to terms with the seventh ring of hell that is the bottom of my bag.

“You couldn’t have woken me up? It couldn’t have waited?”

“I’m sorry.”

She just sighs and locks up the house. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Get to bed.” She doesn’t seem mad. More just… tired.

I just nod at her, because there’s only so many times I can apologize, and trudge upstairs. I shrug off my jacket and flop onto the bed on my back and shut my eyes. I try to sleep, but all those thoughts come racing back into my head, so I turn the music back on to try and drown it out.

The night always seems longer when you’re not sleeping.

* * *

 

School on day twenty-seven is even more of a drag because I only get a couple hours of restless sleep. I oversleep and end up running out the door and powerwalking to school without talking to Gran. The energy drink I pound on the way is just enough to make me jittery without really waking me up, so I drift through classes, listening halfway to Shikamaru’s explanations of how the school works. I drift through the hallways. I drift through seminar and meetings with my teachers. I drift through lunch. I drift to my last class of the day, where I unceremoniously collide with some poor bastard outside the art room, knocking his portfolio to the floor and knocking myself back onto my ass. I blink a few times to process what just happened. He gives me a fake-looking smile as he helps me up to my feet.

“S-Sorry,” I stammer out.

“No worries,” he replies, and picks up his artwork. It’s all really good, mostly pastels it looks like. The chalk kind, not the oil kind. I give him a once-over as we’re picking up the scattered drawings. His hair is longer than most kids where I’m from, black as an oil slick, and his skin is ghostly pale. He looks kind of sickly. He’s wearing a black jacket and black pants and black sneakers.

Let me repeat that.

He's wearing black sneakers. Monochrome. Black canvas on black rubber.

There is absolutely no guy in the world who can pull of black sneakers.

…well, actually, there was this one guy at my old school who wore them and pulled them off, but he also played like six rock instruments and was super skinny and suave all over the place.

Anyway.

Not only is this kid wearing black sneakers, but he's also pulling off the black sneakers. Like, he can totally wear them. It's weird. He's kind of hot, except for the general vampire vibe he’s giving off and the fake smile he’s wearing.

Eh, to each their own.

“Sorry,” I say again as I hand over the last of the drawings.

“No worries,” he says again. He pulls open the art room door and holds it for me. We’re both late at this point, but the teacher doesn’t seem to mind, since there’s a window in the door and he probably saw me run into the poor bastard. The teacher stops me at the front of the room to introduce me to the class just like every naked-speech nightmare every awkward teenager has in every awkward teenage movie ever produced. I take the only empty seat, which happens to be at the back table across from the guy I ran into earlier, and I get to work on the assignment.

Turns out I don’t know shit about drawing.

The guy across from me--whose name is Sai, I find out--doesn’t feel the need to make awkward small-talk as we work. He just sits quietly and draws. I do, too, as well as I can, but I’m so terrible at it I’m starting to realize that this class was a huge mistake. I mean, I don’t even know the basics of drawing, and this is not a basic class.

Oh, well. It’s too late now, and nothing else fits into my schedule but advanced computer programming, and I know less about programming than I do about drawing.

The bell finally rings and I store my chicken-scratch doodle in the cardboard tube the teacher provides me with, and then I walk back to my locker. Sai walks next to me, his steps matching mine. I slowly begin to wonder if maybe he’s stalking me or something until he veers off suddenly. Turns out his locker is just on the way to mine. Judging by the part of the hallway, he’s a junior, and I’m suddenly jealous/weirded out/a little irrationally angry that he’s such a good artist even though he’s younger than me. Maybe I’d be better if I ever practiced, but drawing wasn’t something I was ever into.

But drawing is new for me, and new is good.

I’m so focused on trying to cram all of my shit into my locker and simultaneously keep the other shit from tumbling out that I don’t notice that damn Neji Hyūga until he’s just about breathing down my neck. I jump right out of my skin with the most girlish shriek that’s ever come out of my mouth. I don’t even scream, really--it’s more like a banshee has been trapped in my belly and finally escapes from my mouth of its own volition.

Neji Hyūga blinks serenely at me as everything tumbles out of my locker and onto my feet. I groan and crouch to pick it up, and he just unlocks his locker next to mine without offering to help me pick up my books like a damn asshole.

“Are you ready for the quiz tomorrow?”

It takes a minute to realize that Neji is still looking down at me, and I look at him, a little surprised that he’s talking to me. I think the most he’s ever said to me is ‘hn’ and I don’t think that even counts as saying anything.

“The what?”

“The quiz in A.P. English tomorrow.”

I stare at him.

“Over _Grendel_.”

Realization smacks me in the face and I groan a little. “Oh, right,” I mutter, and I look back down at the textbooks I’m stacking at the shelf on the bottom of my locker. “Not really. Mr. Hatake said I could have a couple days, though.”

“Do you need help studying?”

I stare up at him because yesterday he could hardly be bothered to show me to my classroom and now he’s offering to help me study. My mouth opens, and then closes, then opens/closes/opens/closes like a dying fish how freaking embarrassing and nothing comes out. I’m still wondering why the hell he’s had such a change of heart when I see Rock Lee walking up behind him. He pats Neji on the back and greets him like an old friend and suddenly it makes sense. Even though Neji seems mildly irritated at Lee’s presence, they’ve probably known each other since at least freshman year, so it makes sense that they might be friends. Lee must have chewed him out about being nice to me.

...well, actually, he probably gave him a pep talk or something. That sounds more like Lee.

Lee turns to greet me with a vivacious, “Tenten!” and Neji immediately bolts. He’s gone before I can even tell him that yes, I’d love help studying, I’m super lost, please help me oh god what am I going to do.

I sigh and pack up my backpack with everything I’ll probably need for homework and an extra couple things because I just _know_ I’m forgetting something and straighten up and sling my backpack over my shoulders and the whole time Lee is chattering at me in that weird way he talks with no contractions and super proper grammar and holy shit does he _ever stop talking_ he’s just as bad as Ino and--

Shikamaru appears just before I’m about to rip Lee’s jaw off like in _The Grudge_ and Lee thankfully turns his attention over to him for a hot minute before he scampers off to whatever sport it is that helps him burn off all that extra energy. I breathe a weary sigh of relief and literally slump halfway into my locker, my head resting on the cool metal.

“God save the Queen,” I mumble.

“Sorry about that. He can be a handful,” Shikamaru says in that drawl of his as he leans against the locker next to me, hands in his pockets.

I nod at him. “Everyone here talks so much.”

Shikamaru smirks at me. “Ah, yeah. Ino mentioned she tracked you down. I probably should’ve warned you about her.”

“So many words,” I groan.

“She can be a bit of a drag, but she means well. She’s a nice girl.” Shikamaru tips his head in thought. “You might get along better with Hinata. She’s pretty shy so she doesn’t talk as much.”

“Thank _fuck_ , I thought people like that didn’t exist here.”

He looks amused/startled/perplexed/surprised by the curse that drops from my mouth. Mostly amused. This is probably the most he’s heard me talk, but I like Shikamaru. He’s easy to talk to. And he’s nice, but not small-talk nice. Just… helpful. In a lazy kind of way.

I appreciate lazy things.

It takes a second to realize that he’s watching me, and I raise my brows. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted a ride home.”

“Oh.” I look down and shake my head. “No, I walk. Thanks, though.”

“Okay.” It’s a relief to know that he’s not pushy as hell like Ino is. “Well, my buddy Choji and I are gonna’ go get some food and pretend to study, if you wanted to come.”

My mouth opens, but after a second I shake my head. “Maybe next time.”

“You got it,” he says, and pushes off the locker. “See you around, Tenten.”

I watch him go before I hip-check my locker shut and start the long walk home. I should really invest in a bike or something.

I notice Neji waiting in a car on my way across the parking lot. I stop and knock on the window, and he rolls it down. It’s an older car, but the windows are automatic and it’s clearly been well-maintained. He doesn’t say anything, just prompts me with a raised brow.

“Do you…” I clear my throat. “Do you have any, um… old quizzes or something that I could look at? To get a feel of how Hatake’s tests go?”

He motions me away from the car and for a second I get unreasonably angry. Then he opens up the door and gets out and the irritation fizzles away. He pops the trunk and roots through his book bag for a folder, then produces a stack of old quizzes. They probably have one or two a week by the looks of it.

“You can take pictures with your phone, right?” he asks. I nod and pull it out, snapping picture after picture of what looks like something cooked up in the seventh ring of hell. I’m just finishing with the last one when there’s a quiet throat cleared near us.

There’s a girl standing there, with long dark hair and pale eyes, wearing a nondescript long skirt and an oversized sweater, like she’s trying to hide her body. Even so, I can’t help the blush that rises to my cheeks. Damn if she isn’t pretty.

“Hinata, this is Tenten. Tenten, my cousin Hinata.”

“Uh… nice to meet you,” I say, leaving one hand on the papers so they don’t blow away and extending the other. I realize too late that it’s my left hand, but she shakes it anyway with a shy smile. I finish taking pictures of the quizzes and hand them back to Neji, who puts them away again, and Hinata drops her book bag into the trunk.

“We have to go pick up my cousin Hanabi from school. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tenten. Good luck studying.” Neji is nothing but formal as he gets into the car.

“Thanks!” I say, backing up so I don’t get run over. Hinata waves at me from the passenger seat as they pull away. And then… “Confusing little shit,” I mutter under my breath. I can’t figure out if Neji is nice or mean or kind or stuck up. It’s kind of obnoxious.

To be honest, he reminds me a lot of--

no/bad Tenten/don’t go there/no/bad/scold/scold

I plug in my headphones and start walking home, cranking the music to drown out the thoughts swirling around in my head.

I take a wrong turn, of course, and end up wandering around town until almost 5:20, but Gran isn’t even home yet when I get there so I just fix myself a peanut butter sandwich and pull out _Grendel_ to do some studying. It’s pointless because the food tastes like nothing and the words on the page mean nothing and everything is nothing and I am nothing and nothing is nothing is nothing _is nothing._

The longer I sit there staring at the pages, the more I realize I’m hearing my own thoughts devolve, so eventually I just shut the book and lean back in the kitchen chair with a sigh. I’ve eaten about two bites and just shredded the rest of the sandwich into peanut butter confetti. I turn the music back on and close my eyes to try and drown out the noise in my head.

Gran’s hand on my shoulder a while later makes me jump out of my skin. I look up at her and yank out my headphones.

“Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says. “Did you manage to actually eat anything?”

“Not really.” It comes out as a sleepy mumble. I hadn’t realized I had drifted off. There’s a fly buzzing around my peanut butter remains. I wave it off with my hand and dump the rest into the trash. I’m not taking the chance of having fly germs on my sandwich.

Not that I’m going to eat it, anyway.

“Do you want me to make you something?”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“What are you reading?”

I hold up _Grendel_ so she can see the title. “I have a quiz tomorrow.”

“Are you ready for it?”

“Not exactly. I can’t focus on it, though.”

“You need to eat some protein.”

“I’m not hungry, Gran.”

“Tenny--”

“I said I’m not hungry.” It comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t let that stop me from getting up from the table again. I grab my books and retreat to ~~my~~ the spare room. I shut the door behind me and collapse face-first on the bed and stare at the analog clock on the nightstand until the ticking lulls me to sleep again.


End file.
